


downstairs

by d__T



Category: John Wick (Movies)
Genre: Loneliness, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, arami is transmasc nonbinary, it's all queer, lots of explicit sexual content specified by chapter, nobody in the john wick universe is a good person, self indulgence levels off charts, seth is cismale, the adjudicator's gender and sexuality is adjudication, world development masquerading as porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:48:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23402482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/d__T/pseuds/d__T
Summary: Arami, a lowly Administrator within the High Table hierarchy, is running a side gig using some of the same resources that the Table uses. A higher up comes around- for what, they can't tell, and they panic. And also get the hots for the higher up. They talk to a friend about it, and then try to trap the higher up into protecting their side gig.
Relationships: arami/seth, arami/the adjudicator
Kudos: 5





	1. arami/seth

**Author's Note:**

> chapter 1: banter, massages, vaginal sex

Arami is scared shitless. The Adjudicator has been around. Not looking at things, but also not not looking at things. The elite don’t come down here much- sometimes it feels like they’re a glorified call center- and when an elite does, chaos usually follows.

And Arami isn’t fully on the up and up. This is a criminal organization, for fucks sake, of course people inside it are gonna do crimes.

That doesn’t matter to the Auditors and the Adjudicators, of course.

Shit like this is why Arami never keeps any records of their services, even though it makes their life way more inconvenient. Word of mouth or death.

The Adjudicator is looking for someone or something; might be them, might not be. Arami is desperately hoping that someone else is gonna take this fall.

And, fuck them, but the Adjudicator is  _hot_ too. All the highly unlikely good endings to getting caught- well, they’re getting distracted between calls and maybe they’ll see if Seth has a late appointment available today. This is fucking absurd. Entirely out of hand.

Turns out Seth  _does_ have a late appointment available. The practice is closed when Arami gets there- curtains drawn and lights dimmed. They let themself in and lock the door behind them before dropping their backpack to the floor and shedding their coat.

The front area is dark, lit only by the impossibly soft light spilling from the door to the private room in the back. Seth is in there, leaning back in a side chair with his feet up on the massage table, in all ways except physically smoking a blunt.

“Hey, whassup?” Arami offers.

Seth rights himself. “Oh, you know, I got some asshole making last minute late appointments. I was gonna head back to the apartment and get dinner and suck Devon’s dick, but now I gotta be here.”

“Dude, that sucks, I’m so sorry. Did you ask him to make extra for me?”

Seth smiles. “Sure did. Get naked and get up on the table.”

Arami starts unbuttoning their vest and shirt. “I’ll suck his dick. An apology for both of you.”

Seth waves a hand, dismissing it before pulling his own shirt off over his head. “We’ll figure it out when we get there.”

They climb up on the table and lay down, face down. Seth had put down a couple of towels with the extra soft one on top and they wiggle a little to squish into it. They’re naked, while Seth has stripped down to his jeans and pulled his belt so that they’ll hang loose on his skinny hips. Arami is seeing no evidence of underwear and plenty of bush. “Were you freeballing all day, or is this a special for me?”

“It’s important to be attuned to every client’s unique needs and desires.” Seth says in his customer service voice as he starts massaging their shoulders.

“I’ll be sure to leave a positive review on yelp.” Arami responds in their customer service voice, and Seth laughs.

“Don’t, they’re about to delist me for buying reviews.”

“Cowards and bastards,” Arami slurs, already succumbing to Seth’s hands kneading out their shoulders, “going after hapless small business owners like that!”

They feel like they’re gonna melt right into a puddle under Seth’s hands, and not just because the attention and contact is mixing with the long day of fear and desire. Seth is also just  _really_ good at this.

“What would I do without my crazy little warrior defending me on the internet?”

“Muh.” Arami says coherently, “I’m not little.”

Seth moves around to the other side to start making his work symmetrical. “You’re right, you’re tiny.”

Arami responds more vehemently this time, “’m not tiny!”

“Statistically you’re babey.”

“’m revoking my offer to suck Devon’s dick.”

“Oh no, whatever shall I do,” Seth asks facetiously. “Wanna tell me what’s got you all worked up?”

“Ngh.” Seth is working out a knot in their mid back and it’s ecstatically painful.

“Yeah?”

Arami gasps, getting their breath back from the release of the knot. “I think we’re being audited. But not like- this is not the Auditors, this is one person. Who is way higher up the chain. Way more dangerous.”

“I don’t know anyone who gets their dick hard over being audited.”

Arami groans. “You haven’t seen them, they’re _really_ hot. And they might be looking for me, so of course I’ve got it all twisted up.”

“Aw, poor baby,” Seth says, “so you come running to me.”

“You always-” Arami breaks off as Seth interrupts them by sliding his fingers in between their legs and curling one fingertip between their labia. “Fucking hell, fuck, Seth. You always talk sense into me.”

“Holy fuck you’re wet.”

“No fucking shit, dude.” Arami is panting. “Talk some fucking sense into me.”

“I’ll do a little more than that.” Seth strokes his fingertip smoothly between their folds a few more times. “How far above you are they?”

“Fuck, I don’t know. They’ve got a title and personal assistant and the right to design their own uniform. Do  _not_ fucking stop.”

Seth laughs and keeps stroking. The press of his knuckles between their legs is feeling so much right now, they want him to dig in.

“I am but an ant to them. I am going to strangle the personal assistant and replace her.”

“Oh, you got it bad.” Seth twists his hand a little, just like they wanted, and presses one finger more into them. “I’m sure you will do a much better job of _personally_ assisting them.”

“You’re not supposed to agree with me.”

“Fantasies are a normal and healthy part of human existence.” Seth intones, withdrawing his hand from between their legs and leaving a horrible cooling gap in place. They hear his zipper and the shmp of him dropping his jeans on the side chair.

“Fuck you so much.”

“Don’t be rude to the guy who’s about to dick you down, I could leave you like this.”

“Customer service my ass, I’ve been like this all day.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” Seth swings himself up onto the table, straddling their thighs. They can feel the heat radiating off of him and they want it so bad that they can hardly breath from it.

Seth leans over them, one hand between their shoulderblades and the other pressing his dick against their butt. It’s crushing them a little. “Tell me about them.”

“Fuck me.”

“Only if you tell me about them. If you stop, I stop.”

Arami groans. “They’re a bit taller than me. Skinny like you are. Shaved head- not shaved, buzzed. You know, enough to run your fingers through but not to hold.”

As they babble, Seth slowly thrusts against their butt, and they desperately tilt their hips for him. When they pause to catch their breath, Seth stops moving.

“Fuck you. Okay. Fine features, like, delicate? And they can pick their own uniform. All black of course but they’ve got a sideways cut cloak and really long legs and boots with a really tasteful heel and these leather gloves- fuck, you would not believe, it’s the hottest look. I want them to slap me with those gloves.”

“Maybe if you get caught, they’ll slap you.”

“Don’t encourage me!” Arami moans.

Seth sits back again. “Hips up.”

They obligingly lift for him; he rubs a hand over their junk and Arami groans deeply. He jiggles them, pats them, lifts up and slides his cock into them in one long stroke.

Arami is too incoherent to swear, even, just gasping on the inhale as Seth slowly fucks them.

“You’re so fucking soft, how long were you turned on?”

He doesn’t let them answer and they’re clinging to the thought for the first opportunity to say it.

“All day- all day- all fucking day.” They pant.

“You touch yourself, under your desk?”

“No.”

“You’re a filthy liar.” He slaps their ass.

“Just a little.”

“Send me pictures next time, I love seeing your cute little dick.”

Arami makes an incomprehensible little sound. “Only if we’re sexting.”

“Come here.” Seth pulls at them, shifting them together so that he can plow into them more effectively.

It’s not long after that that Arami comes, shaking helplessly, and Seth growls and holds them down and follows them.

They lay there tangled together and panting.

“Fuck,” Seth eventually says.

“That was fun.” Arami grins. “Dinner?”

“Help me clean up?”

“Always. But, if I drip, you better be on your knees to clean it up.”

“If? You’re so soft, there’s no way it’s staying in you.”

“Then you better get ready, huh.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arami and the Adjudicator have a conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter 2: no warnings.

Arami picks up the phone and gets as far as the opening spiel before they’re interrupted in person. They don’t hear gunfire or heavy breathing in the background of the call, so they say, “Sir- I must put you on hold, yes, sir, I know, one minute,” and pop the hold button.

The Adjudicator is there. Their expression is unreadable.

“May I help you, ser?”

“Come with me.”

Arami’s entire being tightens up. They gesture at the headset, “I have a client on the line.”

“Very well.”

They unhold and the conversation passes in a blur; Arami has worked with this guy before and he loves dramatic entrances but they’re so damn hard to schedule. Eventually they get it squared away and Arami can dump the headset to the cubicle desktop and mark themself as unavailable.

“May I help you?”

“Up.” The Adjudicator commands with a gesture. “Come with me.”

Arami is hugely grateful that they don’t have a penis because the first command dumped arousal through them like lava onto ice. They stand up, contemplate simply stepping up and over the desk, and elect to behave normally and go the long way around to come up beside the Adjudicator. It gives them a badly needed moment to compose themself.

The Adjudicator beckons with a finger.

Arami follows them up into the stacks. Up and up and up. Material here is older, less used. The reciprocal of that is there are fewer people and more privacy. They are trying to breath normally as they oscillate rapidly between fear and excitement, palms sweating.

They wouldn’t bring you up to the stacks to kill you. Too messy, too private, Adjudicators make  _examples_ .

The Adjudicator leads them out of easy sight, and Arami would like to swallow their heart out of their throat.

“I hear that you offer extra services.”

“What services do I offer?” It’s a hard open, Arami can’t read it for shit.

“Hospitality.”

“A vast array of hospitality options are available through the usual means.” Arami states policy.

“You offer upgrades, for a price.”

“Anything can be bought for enough money.” Arami says blandly, offering what amounts to a platitude around there.

The Adjudicator purses their lips. Arami feels the fear of a potential long drop. They hold the Adjudicator’s gaze anyway, willing them to be the one to say it first, because Arami can and will walk this around in circles forever.

“What would you recommend for me?”

Arami is gonna eat their own tongue. They look them up and down and then shrug. “I would need to know your personal tastes to customize something for you. Ser.”

“My tastes run towards you.” The Adjudicator smiles just slightly.

“Do they.” Arami tries to keep the faint out of their voice.

“How does that change the available services?”

“My shift is over in four hours, unless you care to pull rank on my manager.”

Fifteen minutes later, Arami is out on the sidewalk following The Adjudicator. It seems a strange choice to travel on foot with their rank, but the crush of people on the sidewalk parts around The Adjudicator like water around a knife. Arami feels like a ribbon floating in air, pulled along in their wake.

They end up in a dark coffeeshop. It has all the gravitas of an obscenely swanky British tailor shop in a spy movie. There’s no prices on the board because that would be gauche.

Arami is in over their head.

The Adjudicator orders tea. Arami orders chai. The Adjudicator pays for it in cash, not coin.

Means that this place is  _outside_ the Circle of influence. Interesting.

The Adjudicator chooses a narrow booth in the back.

“You’re keeping secrets.” Arami returns the hard open from earlier.

“And you’re keeping up with me.”

Arami dips their head in acknowledgement, and stays quiet as their drinks arrive.

“This is fantastic, thank you.” They’d actually burned their tongue, but no mind, the edges of the burn taste great. “It is hard to believe that I can provide something that you cannot obtain on your own.”

“I am obtaining it on my own.”

“$7.99 is the cheapest I’ve ever been bought for, and frankly I’m insulted.”

The Adjudicator pulls their gloves from where they’re tucked into their jacket sleeve and lays them neatly on the table, between them but close to hand. Arami looks between the gloves, The Adjudicator’s thin knuckles around their mug, and then their face.

“You’d give yourself to me for free.”

Arami shrugs one shoulder. “Rules are different out here.”

“There aren’t very many of us.”

Arami squints at them, breathing steam off of their mug. “Are you _lonely_?”

The Adjudicator looks like Arami had just punched them in the face.

Arami almost feels bad, but the opportunities this could present are too fucking good to feel remorse for what’s about to happen. “You can’t buy the solution to that with cash nor coin. You got a name, Adjudicator?”

Arami is giddy with fear and arousal, the power dynamic keeps flipping and they’re keeping on their feet as good as or better than an elite. Who might not even be a real person.

The pause is way too long. “Rowan.”

“Hi Rowan, I’m Arami. Would you like to come over to dinner with me and my friends tonight?”

“I- okay.”

“Great!” Arami fishes their personal phone out and opens up the contacts before passing it over. “Put yourself in. No work phones or burners.”

The Adjudicator dutifully taps their name and phone number in before handing it back.

Arami immediately texts them, “Send me any dietary restrictions before 3pm.”

“Should I bring something?”

“If you drink something weird, bring enough to share. And-” Arami points- “Don’t dress better than I am now.”

The Adjudicator looks slightly baffled.


	3. Day 2: Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Adjudicator goes to dinner with Arami and Arami's friends. There's a bit of culture shock. After dinner, Arami attempts to manipulate the Adjudicator into protecting their side gig.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter 3: banter, more culture shock.  
> warnings: Arami gets emotionally manipulative, and physically aggressive. Chapter ends on a bad tone.

The Adjudicator meets Arami a block away from Seth and Devon’s apartment, and they walk over together. The Adjudicator is still dressed too nicely- black blazer, slim fitting white shirt, black jeans, ankle boots, the diagonal cut cloak again- and the culture clash with Seth may very well break them. Arami is just hoping that Seth is wearing a normal people amount of clothing.

“They don’t know what I do- they think I’m some kind of government with a security clearance. The abstraction of the Circle lets me talk about it plainly, in some ways. They know that you outrank me, but they won’t care. I don’t want to talk about my job but if we do, you’re smart; keep up or shut up.”

The Adjudicator laughs, startled, “No one has told me to shut up in years.”

“It’s good for you.” Arami snarks.

“Hm.” The Adjudicator makes a noncommittal sound.

The apartment is warm and bright and busy; there’s music on, Devon is wearing his locs tied back in a thick braid and an apron over his regular clothing, and Seth is clearly helping because he’s not wearing a shirt.

At least he’s wearing pants.

The Adjudicator has stumbled to a halt behind Arami just inside the door. Arami pretends not to notice, pointing at everyone in turn to do introductions.

Dinner passes in a blur of banter. The Adjudicator is almost keeping up; reasonable, given that the three of them have their own rarefied ionosphere of memes and in-jokes. But as the evening progresses, the Adjudicator- Rowan, gets slower and quieter until they’re hardly talking even though their gaze remains sharp.

The moment it stops being wholly impolite, they go outside to the narrow balcony and lean on the railing in the cold. Without cloak or blazer, they look thin and colder by the moment with their breath white in the air.

It goes quiet the moment that the door is shut.

“The hell are you doing.” Devon asks flatly.

“Getting protection. You  _know_ that half of what I do is- hm- extralegal.”

“Yeah, but you’re acting weird.”

“I need you guys, and I don’t fuck up my chain of command.”

“I know, and that’s the problem.”

“I really appreciate you doing this for me.”

“We’re gonna talk about this.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything else.” Arami gets up and lets themself out onto the balcony.

The Adjudicator doesn’t look at them, is only cold-tense when they put their arm around them. “They’re a lot, aren’t they?”

“Nobody acts like that.” The Adjudicator says dully.

“They’re always like that.”

“Not for real.”

“Is this what you wanted?”

“Thanks, I hate it.”

Arami laughs, “There you go!”

“Mm.”

Arami turns their head and kisses their lips. “It’s cold out here.”

The Adjudicator lets them back in.

Seth applauds, “Congratulations.”

“Fuck you,” Arami gripes good naturedly. 

Seth holds his arms out in invitation and Devon thwaps him right in the middle of his chest. “Hey!”

“See, they really are like that.”

“I think I’m gonna head out.”

“So soon?” Devon asks.

“Early day tomorrow.”

“Let me walk with you.”

“Sure.”

They take the stairs down, The Adjudicator leading, burning something physical.

Arami corners them halfway down. “Did you get what you wanted?”

Even back against the concrete wall, The Adjudicator looks down on them. “I hold your life in my hand.”

“And I’ll stain your fingers red if you crush me. I supposed they’d cover it up, but who do you think does the covering up?  _Us_ .”

The Adjudicator bares their teeth. “You can’t touch me.”

“You wish that were true.” Arami stretches up and bites their lip hard enough to cut. “I’m so far into your brain that you’ll never get me out.”

The Adjudicator hisses.

“I can touch you whenever I want. I can know you itinerary, your bank account, your room number at the Continental.” Arami pauses. “Or your assistant’s room, and then I could know what’s in that double-locked bag, too.”

The Adjudicator shoves them and they go with it, yielding easily. “Don’t talk to me like that.”

Arami grins. “See if you can shut me up.”

The Adjudicator touches their tongue to the split in their lip, eyes wide. “Fine.”

And then The Adjudicator- doesn’t exactly bolt down the stairs, but close enough. Arami watches them go, the adrenaline crash hitting as soon as their footsteps fade.

“Back so soon?”

“Beat my head in with a brick, Seth.”

“Get out of my apartment with that shit, Arami.”

They sling their little backpack over their shoulders. “See you guys around.”

And then they hit the stairs back down just about as fast as The Adjudicator had.


	4. The Next Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arami realizes that they've made a mistake. They and the Adjudicator fuck it out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4: a shocking amount of consent with these two, everyone wants to be a top. packers, strapons, anal sex.  
> warnings: Arami follows through on their stalking threat.

The Adjudicator is around in their official capacity. Arami does their job and doesn’t look at the Adjudicator’s itinerary or accommodations. It’s a precarious balance, scandal versus scandal, waiting to be crushed. It lasts for days, this killing silence until Arami cracks.

Not regret, exactly, but the ability to make good on their thread. Secrets are meant to be shared, aren’t they?

And there’s nothing interesting in the itinerary for the Adjudicator or their assistant. Perfectly normal, exactly as stated. They dig a little deeper; pull the phone tracking records. There’s the two excursions with Arami, and nothing else that doesn’t match the itinerary.

The assistant has three jaunts to the cafe that everyone else goes to, around lunchtime.

Arami rubs their forehead, sighing. What the fuck, this is so normal. Maybe in the expenses- but they have to take a call and then it’s well into lunch time.

They are tired, frustrated, hungry, and the Adjudicator is staring imperiously down at them.

“Hi.”

“You were in my records.”

“Sure was.”

“Find anything interesting?”

“Not yet.”

The Adjudicator allows the shadow of a smile. “Come with me.”

Arami stays seated. “Gonna make an example of me?”

“Come get lunch with me.”

Arami narrows their eyes. “Okay.”

It seems to be just lunch by the time they’ve sat down with their respective foods. Almost.

“Why did you think that would work on me?”

“It did, didn’t it?”

“Hm. My position grants me no ability to protect your activities, nor was I here to sniff you out.”

Arami scrambles to keep their face blank. They’d overreacted to the threat of power. Good. Great.

“But you do have your hook in me and the image of you popping was quite…. evocative.”

Evocative is not quite the word they would use, but okay. “Is this business, or personal?”

“Personal.”

“You’re fucking nuts.” Arami says honestly. They know exactly what they did, and what they were trying to do; and here is the Adjudicator pulling the fishhook through their own lip. The elites truly are crazy. Must be all that power.

“You weren’t wrong about me, and I’ll get what I want.” The Adjudicator smiles. “From you.”

Fuck. This must be what it’s like to go fishing for trout and get a whole damn shark. “Okay, what can I do for you?”

“Let’s start back in the stairwell, right when you pushed me up against the wall.”

“Yeah?”

“I think you could pick me up.”

“You know I can’t sit you on my dick like that. Listen, I gotta be back at my cube in 8 minutes. Text me.” Arami points at them.

“Text- yeah, okay.”

There’s a text notification before they reach their desk. “I’m sure that we could figure something out.”

They close it, log into their computer, chew on their tongue, and text back, “I shove you against the wall, one hand on your sternum, and grab your crotch with the other.” And then drop their phone into the drawer it mostly lives in during work hours.

Three hours later, Arami emerges from the deluge to check their phone. There’s six increasingly explicit messages, and the seventh, “fuck you for leaving me hanging like that.”

Arami grins to themself. “Just doing my job!”

“Come up to my room.”

“When and where?” Arami asks, like they don’t already know.

“425, 6p.”

“Great, I’ll be early.”

“Don’t be early.”

“What am I supposed to do for the 5-6 hour?”

“You’re smart, figure something out.”

“Sponsor my activities.”

There’s a longer pause this time. “Check your accounts.”

“Fuck dude okay.” When the elites commit to something, boy do they sure fucking commit.

As instructed, Arami lets themself into the Adjudicator’s room. The Adjudicator is reclining in the chair, fully dressed and gloves included, looking fucking regal.

Arami swallows and grins, feeling a little shabby. “Hi.”

The door clicks shut behind them. “Do come in. Show me what you got.”

“Why don’t you come over here and find out.” Arami dares.

The Adjudicator gives them a lazy look and clicks their tongue once.

Arami steps towards them. They could turn and leave and take all of the secrets in their tiny backpack with them but they’d spent the last hour or so working out all of the combinations of what could happen now and they are  _ready_ for anything that the Adjudicator could ask for. And hell, they just got a lot of fresh new gear; it would be hot to use it.

The Adjudicator stands at the last possible moment and pushes Arami to fall back onto the bed, immediately swinging themself over to straddle Arami’s thighs.

Arami looks up at them past the jut of their ribcage; the overfull backpack is jamming their lower back into a painful arch. It’s got no give at all because of how much is in it. “Thought you wanted to start in the stairwell.”

“I thought again.” They grab Arami’s crotch, fingers settling so wonderfully around their fresh new packer, the pressure right where it belongs. “And you didn’t have this before.”

Arami doesn’t pack every day. An even split between physical and emotional comforts. This one is the next size up of their normal one; they knew what they were walking into. “A treat,” they say, “for you.”

The Adjudicator jiggles their handful, causing Arami to bite back a moan. They feel exposed like this with their back so arched and the bulge of their packer in their too-tight jeans despite all of their clothing still being on and untouched.

“For me?” The Adjudicator mocks, moving up to rest their crotch across Arami’s bulge and their hands across their chest.

Arami squirms. “Fuck.” Their dick is so hard, they want to thrust right up into them. Instead they grab the Adjudicator’s hips and grind them together.

The Adjudicator unbuttons their vest and shirt, immediately smoothing their hands over Arami’s bare chest and small breasts. Again, with nails dragging and Arami squirming and pinned. “Show me what you got.”

Arami wants to snark but can’t make the words go so instead they say, “You’ll have to let me up.”

“Oh, will I?”

Arami nods fervently “I want to-”

“Very well.” The Adjudicator sits back onto their thighs.

Arami unbends themself, pulling the tiny backpack out from under them before falling back down. Without looking, they unzip it and start laying toys out across their belly and chest, using their body as a display. Small items first: a bottle of lube between their breasts to keep it from rolling, on their ribs below a bullet vibe and a larger one. Then large items, a strapon that doesn’t need a harness. It’s heavy and long, stretching from their hip to their ribs. Black cuffs, a complete set, and a bundle of rope that feels as heavy as the strap. And then down at the bottom- small packets of candy. These they simply shake out over themself and the Adjudicator laughs, startled and surprised.

Arami smirks.

"You covered your bases, huh," the Adjudicator says as they run their fingers over the strap.

"You didn't tell me what your tastes were." Arami says honestly.

The Adjudicator laughs, "I told you I was gonna make you pop."

"I don't know what that  _means_ ." Arami whines.

"Gonna make you come until you can't. Or maybe edge you until you beg."

"You're awfully fucking confident."

"You want to please me."

"Ah-" But Arami can't deny it. "Fuck me up."

The Adjudicator brushes the toys and candy off of them to thunk their hand down in the middle of their chest. “You’re awfully fucking confident."

“Slap me with your gloves for my hubris.”

“Not with that attitude I won’t.” The Adjudicator grins. “What’s it take to make you go down?”

“On my knees? The suggestion and about one large ficus’ worth of privacy.”

“I mean  _submit_ .”

“Damn near anything, but I don’t stay down so I ain’t telling you.”

The Adjudicator rears back to standing, and Arami comes up with them, hand immediately cupping the other’s crotch and mouth at their throat. They’re  _hot_ in their hand, breathy when Arami squeezes.

“ _Fuck_ you’re hot.”

Arami unbuckles their belt, unbuttons their fly, and stuffs their hand down their underwear, holding them the same way as before.

The Adjudicator is wide eyed like they can’t believe that this is happening.

“You’re awfully fucking confident,” Arami murmurs, sliding one finger against their labia, not even between them, “for someone who’s melting into my hand.”

The Adjudicator grunts. “You don’t go in me.”

“Sure thing.” Arami slips the fingertip between their labia, dragging over their click and deeper towards their hole, and back. “ _Fuck_ , you’re so wet.”The Adjudicator pants as they stroke, one finger sleek and gentle.

“God, you’re a mess.”

The Adjudicator’s hands settle on their ass, squeezing, lifting. Arami goes with it, lining the bulge of their packer up under their knuckles before slipping their hand free so they can rock together. And with that kind of grip, there’s no way that the Adjudicator  _doesn’t_ know that the harness they’re wearing is backless.

“Fuck, give me the strap.”

“Gonna fuck me?”

“Gonna make you shut up.”

“Doubt that.”

The Adjudicator laughs, “You came running to me for protection and now you doubt my every ability?”

Arami grins against them. “Take your fucking clothes off. Leave the gloves.”

“Help me with my boots.”

Arami slides down to their knees and lifting the Adjudicator’s feet in turn, unzips their boots and tugs them off. Then they slide their hands up to their knees, pulling themself up to nose into the triangle bared by the Adjudicator pushing their slacks down.

“You’re eager.”

“Woulda fingered you in that stairwell if you hadn’t run.” Arami says, muffled.

“Fucksake.”

A hand lands in their hair, twisting, pulling, this close they can hear the creak of thin leather across knuckles. They pull back against the grip, are stilled, they pull the Adjudicator’s pants the rest of the way down.

The Adjudicator stomps them the rest of the way off, then stands there proud under Arami’s hands, long shirt hanging down over their thighs like a tunic.

“Sure you don’t want at least a little fingering before you strap up? It’s awful large.”

“Feels disgusting.” The Adjudicator pulls their gloves off before taking the strap from them. With a look of deep concentration, they work the knob end into themself, letting the band of their undies support it from underneath.

“You’ve got no idea how hot that is.”

“I know exactly how hot it is. Get undressed.”

Arami strips down to their harness, standing just as proud with their long hair tumbling down one side of their body and their broken stained glass tattoos tumbling down the other side. “You gonna knock me down or am I taking you down with me?”

The Adjudicator pushes them and they go, falling back on the bed, desperately trying to push scattered bags of candy away from what’s about to happen. Their legs go up around the Adjudicator’s waist, the strap curving up under their butt. 

“Lube that before you shove it in me.” Arami demands.

The Adjudicator scrabbles for the little bottle, refusing to let them shift apart. They rub some at Arami’s asshole- hey, cold! and then, presumably, at their strap. And then the blunt head of it is pressing at their hole, weight drawing them together, pushing them open. “Jesus, fuck, oh-”

“Say my name.”

“That’s not your  _name_ , Adjudicator.” Arami growls.

The Adjudicator laughs and pulls out. Arami swears and then the Adjudicator keeps doing it, in out in out, a slick inch and no more until Arami is panting and squirming too much to cuss. The Adjudicator pauses then, just inside, “Do you want something?”

Arami locks their legs up around the Adjudicator’s waist and _pulls_ themself onto the strap. Agonizingly slowly, and the Adjudicator just watches them make it only halfway. “Is that all you have?”

Arami groans, “If I gotta do all the work around here, then _yeah_ , it is.”

The Adjudicator pulls back, puts more lube along the length that Arami had managed, and slides in again.

Arami moans. It’s a hard position, pushing up inside them with the Adjudicator’s thin arms locked around their legs. “Fuck me or god help you I will throw you down the stairs instead.”

“That’s cute.” The Adjudicator does as told though, easy rhythm easy depth but for the hard angle and Arami is soon twisting back and forth with their hands everywhere and useless.

“Think I’m gonna come-” Arami pants.

“Oh-?”

But the Adjudicator doesn’t let it happen, they press in through the orgasm, each wave of it letting them sink in a little deeper. It’s too much, kinda ruins it, body unable to cope with the added girth. The Adjudicator stays pressed, then starts fucking them again before they’re ready-

“Hey, god damn what the hell-” Arami twists away, away and off, rolling onto their side in a loose limbed pile, still burning up through their core with need, “ow.”

The Adjudicator comes forward over them, caging them with their body, slick tip dragging against their butt. “Still gonna throw me down the stairs?”

“Maybe.” Arami stretches, half for real and half to drag on the strap and see the Adjudicator react with a bitten inhale. “You are not immune.”

The Adjudicator reaches between them, adjusting slightly, slides in to the new depth. Arami is a little sore, but it’s just right now. “You better stay soft, you’re taking this whole thing.”

Arami whines, squirming uselessly. This position is easier, it lets them tilt their hips up to meet the Adjudicator’s thrusts, opening them right up.

They’re still glittering around the edges, and the brushes of the Adjudicator's long shirt and the press of their bodies together are electric. But they need more. They wiggle a hand in between their legs to grab their packer, curl their fingers under the balls to press against their dick. Immediate, real- 

"Hey, I said no touching." 

Arami whines and doesn't stop.

The Adjudicator shoves an arm between their arm and body, prying their hand away. "Nope, you already got one for free."

"Oh, fuck."

The Adjudicator sits back a little, still in them. The cuffs and rope are within their reach; they cuff Arami and tie their wrists behind their back.

It presses their face against the bed, twisting them as they try to take their weight on their shoulder instead while still keeping their ass up.

"You wanted that." The Adjudicator accuses.

Arami growls, face still squished. "Shut the fuck up."

The Adjudicator snickers. "You have, oh, how would Seth put it, dumb slut disease."

"You talking to him behind my back?"

"No."

"Good."

"I'll gag you with the rope tail."

"Donchyu wanna hear me when I finally take your whole cock?"

"hah." But the Adjudicator doesn't gag them, just fucks them deeper on each thrust, hands on their hip and shoulder.

Stays loud as a reward, breaking off when the Adjudicator pauses, hips pressed against butt. "There."

Arami squirms, they can feel it all the way up inside them, a little unforgiving with its unnatural stiffness, they'll be feeling this tomorrow in all the right ways.

"Let me come-"

"No." The Adjudicator goes back to fucking them deep and solid and Arami is breathless and useless.

"Please."

"Aw." The Adjudicator picks up the pace though, shorter strokes more force, not bottoming out every time and Arami is pushing back, wanting to meet them but unable to really do so with their arms bound like that.

"Say it again."

Arami shakes their head, eyes squeezed shut. “I’m so close-”

“Say it again.”

“Fuck, please touch my dick.” Arami keeps their eyes closed against being made to beg, fuck they hate that but they need it now, so fucking bad.

The Adjudicator has to shift positions a little to reach properly to get their fingers under the packer and against Arami’s dick. It jams them fully together, fully in. “Fuck, _please_ -”

It feels like barely three strokes before they’re coming and this time the Adjudicator lets them have it, slipping to the slender tip and letting them shake.

“How was that?” The Adjudicator asks facetiously. “More than you could handle?”

Arami pants instead of replying for a moment. “You wish.”

The Adjudicator slaps their ass, not hard, and they full body twitch before falling lax again. The Adjudicator sits back, spread legged, and Arami gets to watch them ease the strap out of their body. It sends the Adjudicator on a face journey, and Arami wants to hook two fingers into the slick space it left behind, but it’s forbidden and not for reasons of the game they’re playing so they keep their hands to themself.

“ _whew_ "

Arami grins. “You want something?”

The Adjudicator moves like lightening, pushing Arami onto their back and straddling their shoulders in almost the same motion. Arami rolls with it, largely unable and unwilling to resist. “One more.”

Arami sticks their tongue out. “Keep your shirt out of my face and you got it.”

The Adjudicator bunches up the front of their shirt as they scooch forward a little, pressing their labia to Arami’s lips. “Don’t even fucking try to get me off.”

Arami flicks the inside of their leg,  _I’ll try anything I want to_ . 

The Adjudicator spreads their own labia and presses down harder than Arami thinks is entirely reasonable. But they can’t move the Adjudicator, wouldn’t if they could; they just keep their hands on the Adjudicator’s butt and hang on as they’re ridden like that. There’s not much that they can contribute; the Adjudicator seems to be in this more for whatever’s going on in their head rather than the actual physics.

Arami still sneaks a thumb underneath, just edging at their hole. Not penetrating, as ordered, but just teasing, needing to provide even a little.

The Adjudicator freezes, hard; Arami can feel it against their thumb and their lips and it is impressive, the silence and then the sigh.

The Adjudicator rolls off of them to lay beside them. There’s a really long pause. “How are you still an Administrator?”

“I have friends, Adjudicator.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Tell me your name, then.”

“Already did.”

“You lied to me.”

“It wasn’t my name then. It is now.”

“You know how fucked up that is, right?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re leaving soon.”

“Yeah.”

“California?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ve never been.”

“I could take you with me.”

“Am I your emotional support dog, or something?”

“I dunno, are you cute in red?”

“I’m not going out in public in a puppy hood.”

“What?” Rowan asks cluelessly.

“Oh for fucksake.”


	5. Some Time Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Adjudicator takes Arami with them to their place in California. Arami has a few opinions about that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> class differences are cool and fun.

Arami looks up and around the room. It’s a one bedroom apartment, sure, but it’s easily three times the size of Arami’s apartment. It’s got a large open area with a high ceiling, and then halfway up the back wall is a loft for the bed area. The entire thing is furnished starkly in black and white and shades of silver and grey. It’s very neat, very cold, very rich.

“I’m going to eat you.” Arami says casually.

“I hope metaphorically, not literally.” Rowan says.

“Oh no, it’s literal. Do you even fucking live here?”

“Sometimes. I travel a lot.”

“No, what do you  _do_ other than your job?”

The Adjudicator’s silence stretches further than the open space of their apartment.

“See, that is why you ain’t a person and you know it. And you need more help than I can give you.”

“Arami-”

“I get people dicked down the way they want. This? I can’t help you. This is too large. I’m booking myself a flight back on your account.”

“Arami.”

“Yeah?”

“I’ll see you in New York?”

“You know where I work.”


End file.
